


just a little water

by archer_nebulae



Category: Bionicle - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Spherus Magna, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archer_nebulae/pseuds/archer_nebulae
Summary: They’re leaving the robotic corpse of Mata Nui, and emerging onto Spherus Magna. It’s a whole new world!And apparently, the water has special properties for certain Turaga.





	just a little water

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at my [tumblr](https://icynebulae.tumblr.com/post/159796300700/just-a-little-water).

“ _Matau_?”

It has to be him; the diving and swerving is all his style. But that was centuries ago, when they were still the Toa Metru. She remembers those gleeful shouts, the same as what’s echoing down from the sky right now.

_This is no illusion_ , Nokama thinks. _But how can it be reality_?

The green figure suddenly dives, rapidly approaching the coastline where she stands. He lands with a flourish and a bow, of course.

“Nokama!” Matau says. Smirking, he adds, “Did you miss this toa-hero?”

“Only when I’ve forgotten your adventures riding kikanalo,” she replies. She’s annoyed that she has to look up to respond. Matau exaggerates a wince and chuckles. “How..?” she asks.

Matau rubs his mask. “I was curious about the sea,” he says. “Wondered if it was like when we new-found Mata Nui.”

“Right,” Nokama says. She recalls tasting the water they’d found, and spitting it out because it was so different from the liquid in Metru Nui.

“Anyway, it feel-tastes like Mata Nui, but,” Matau pivots in a circle, “also has other benefits.”

Nokama feels impulsive, like she hasn’t been in centuries. She steps toward the ocean. “We can’t leave you as the only new toa-hero,” she throws back to him.

She had no idea this new land would ever be able to give her the water again. She enjoys being a turaga, it’s true, but her heart-light still echoes with the feel of water at her fingertips, through all these long years. _And as a toa again, I’ll be able to help build our new home like never before_.

The water swirls around her, and she feels herself stretching, growing. It’s the smoothest transformation she’s ever endured. It’s like coming home.

Returned to her full height, the very next thing Nokama does is reach into the sea. She feels it respond effortlessly, and raises the ocean in a high wave, rushing it toward the shallows. Immediately though, she mellows it, and only drowns Matau in the wave, and not the matoran lingering farther ashore.

With the aid of the ocean, Nokama propels herself to the sand, and does a forward flip out of the sea. Matau applauds.

Then they both notice Onewa among the matoran flocking around them. Nokama waves, and Onewa approaches them.

“Never thought I’d see this,” he says, looking up at them. “How’d you work this out, teacher?” he teases.

“Just a little water,” Nokama replies. “Care to take a bath, builder?”

“You could do with a little reconstruction,” Matau adds.

Onewa responds with a scowl - just like any Po-matoran around water - but responds with, “If you must.”

“We must,” Nokama says. She glances at Matau, and then in one motion pulls a wave of water on top of Onewa. He’s still dripping as his limbs grow longer, and his mask shifts to the rectangular one he wore through their journeys. Onewa looks himself over, and looks up, grinning.

Then Onewa crouches. When he stands, the ground stands with him. Two columns of sandstone jolt Nokama and Matau into the air. With a shriek, Matau summons the wind and his aeroblades, soaring again above the coastline.

A sharp whistle draws all three toa’s attention back to the crevice where everyone was emerging from. Nuju is there with Whenua, and Vakama trailing behind them.

Now closer, Nuju looks them up and down, and lets off a long series of whistles and trills. Instinctively, Nokama activates her own mask of translation.

“– **the matoran like this** ,” Nuju says. “ **Though as toa we have more strength and power, that doesn’t make us figures of wisdom and advice for the matoran**.”

Nokama responds in the same language, thrilled as she does so. “ **That’s true brother, but perhaps now the matoran do not need figures of wisdom? We are all parted from our original destinies now**.” As she counters Nuju’s argument, Nokama realizes another facet. “ **As toa even, we represent all the exploration and adventure to do here. We will be better at protecting our future here as toa, rather than turaga**.”

Nuju is silent for several moments.

“So can we fling you in the sea?” Onewa asks, growing impatient.

Nokama approves of Onewa’s question. _Our centuries as turaga may have made us better toa, she thinks. We’ve learned respect and patience_. Ordinarily, Onewa might’ve simply acted, but this situation is special. As a team, the Toa Metru had undergone the Hordika transformation unwillingly and with great pain. And though they’d chosen it, had also become turaga out of duty for the matoran, rather than true desire. _After all this_ , Nokama thinks, _certainly none of us would force such a transformation on each other again_.

Matau approaches, having landed a moment ago. “You’ll like the result,” he adds, gesturing to himself.

Nuju looks up at the three toa, and then gives a trill that turns into a sigh.

“ **If you must…** ” he says.

But Nokama need not translate aloud. Nuju’s sigh is all the confirmation Matau needs, and he swoops toward him. Then with a burst of wind, he jolts into the air, carrying and then dropping Nuju directly into the sea.

Meanwhile, Whenua had been observing. “I’ll just walk in, thanks,” he says.

“No,” responds Onewa. “I need to toss _someone_ in.” But Onewa pauses for one second before jolting forward; Nokama sees how Whenua might have sidestepped Onewa, and chose not to. So saying, Onewa grabs Whenua from behind and flings him into the breaking waves.

Whenua’s limbs grow and his mask changes before their eyes. He sits up facing them, spluttering sea water. While seated, the water is chest high on him now, instead of almost over his head.

With a growl, Whenua rises and charges toward Onewa, who’s blinded by quick activation of Whenua’s mask power. Thus, they thud onto the sand, Whenua industriously sinking Onewa into it.

As for Nuju, he announces his return with wordless dramatics; a great pillar of ice shoots from the ocean, wrapping Matau up neatly. Nuju surfaces after, and slides down the ice ramp he’d formed, back to the sand nearby.

Vakama is still beside her. She glances down at him. He’s smiling.

“Another tale for the chroniclers?” Nokama offers.

Matau yelps in the distance; he’s escaped the ice.

“I do agree,” he responds. “And I’ve a few bits to add to this.”

So saying, he meanders into the water, growing and growing and stretching into the sun. Steam drifts off his armor. The water around his knees vigorously bubbles.

“Blowing off some steam, fire-spitter?” Matau says. 

“Aren’t we all?” Vakama replies. He shoots off a small fireburst, which Matau redirects with a wind gust. As it nears her, Nokama quenches it.

_This will be the most interesting adventure yet_. So thinking, Nokama throws herself it the fray.


End file.
